


But Above All, Freedom

by fineandwittie



Category: Will (TV 2017)
Genre: A redo of that scene, I can't believe there aren't at least a dozen fanfics by now, I'm disappointed in you fandom, M/M, S1E2: Cowards Die Many Times, Sharlowe, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: The way we all wanted that scene in episode two to play out.





	But Above All, Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd.
> 
> I just finished episode three and I am severely disappointed in the lack of fanfics (as well as the lack of my babies interacting in this episode).
> 
> One Shot.

“But above all, freedom!” Will slammed Marlowe against the table, the man’s body pressing in a long hot line along his.

Will was panting with the force of his own emotions. He could feel Marlowe’s breaths against his chest and had a moment of realization. The threat to his marriage wasn’t Alice, who he had been able to push away. It was Christopher Marlowe, draped elegantly over the table beneath him and already reaching up to run his fingers over Will’s skin.

“I’m…” He started, but couldn’t bring himself to finish. He couldn’t find it in him to break the moment.

Marlowe’s lips, plush and pink, curled. “What? What are you, Will Shakespeare?”

“I’m…” Will swallowed, throat thick with nerves. “I’m going to kiss you.”

The curl of Marlowe’s lips widened into a genuine smile. “By all means.”

Will didn’t so much lower his head in order to kiss him, as dropped his lips to meet Marlowe, who stretched up for it. Those plush, pink lips were chapped. There was stumble growing in around Marlowe’s mouth. Both sensations were jarring.

Will had never kissed a man before. He’d actually only kissed his wife and Alice before. He was raised a good Catholic boy and good Catholic boys did not go around kissing people at random. 

A shiver ran down his body, which Marlowe could surely feel, and he pulled away, panting again. 

“Well, Master Shakespeare? Do I taste like freedom to you?” The smirk was back. The one that made Will want to slap it away or meet Marlowe’s searching gaze for hours or run back to Alice or Anne. 

He thought that, as a playwright, he should perhaps have more experience with life. He should have a better, a deeper, understanding of the human condition, of nature, in order to reflect it back to people. In that moment, he realized how very limited his understanding of nature had been, how childish. 

“You know? I think perhaps you do…” Will bit his lip for a moment, before adding. “But I’d have to taste again to be sure.”

Marlowe’s answering grin was broad and inviting. He reached up and slipped a hand around the back of Will’s neck and tugged him down. “Well, if it is more evidence that you seek, I shall endeavor to oblige.”

This time, Marlowe licked his way into Will’s mouth. Will opened for him easily, an illicit thrill making the whole experience feel electric. He could feel Marlowe breathing beneath him, feel the man’s heartbeat inside his own chest. Marlowe slipped his other hand down over Will’s back, before reaching inside the waistband of his pants.

Will was already half-hard with kissing, but the tentatively fingers that curled into the flesh of his backside, yanking him closer, had him straining against his zipper. 

Marlowe arched up into him, an answering hardness against Will’s hip. Will had released his grip on Marlowe’s collar at some point. Allowing Marlowe to tug his shirt up and over his head seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. 

To then wiggle out of his pants was all too easy. Marlowe sat up to watch him divest himself of the remnants of his clothing. He leaned on one elbow, shirt gaping sideways and wide eyes glinting in the firelight. Will dropped his discarded clothing in a pile on the floor, leaving him nude. Marlowe was still fully clothed, which hardly seemed fair, but Will didn’t have the chance to complain. He was pulled back down onto the table, this time to straddle Marlowe’s hips, thighs pressing in tight. Marlowe pulled him down for another kiss, running his hands freely over Will’s bare skin.

From the moment they’d met, Will thought deliriously, their coupling seemed inevitable. He pulled Marlowe’s shirt up and off, skimming eager fingers over the tattoos that littered his skin. “I’ve never done this before.”

Marlowe arched an eyebrow and dug his fingers into Will’s buttocks. “Done what?”

Will swallowed. “Lain with a man. I’ve only ever laid with my wife.”

The other eyebrow rose to match. “Married, are you?”

Will nodded, his hands coming to rest on Marlowe’s stomach. He could feel the muscles flexing as the man moved. “Yes. With three children. Does that bother you?”

Marlowe laughed and pushed Will off him. “No more than the fact that you’re Catholic bothers me. Which is to say, not at all. What care I for another man’s wife?”

He shrugged and pushed his own leather pants down to his boots, at which point Will lost track of what Marlowe was doing. He was too distracted by the erection rising hot and red from between Marlowe’s legs. How exactly did men lay together? 

Will was no callow youth. He knew that Marlowe might like to put it in his mouth, but surely that couldn’t be the only way?

“So what you’re telling me, Will, is that you have no idea what you’re doing. Is that right?” Marlowe straightened, his spine cracking as he unfurled it. Will blinked and nodded again. “Well, then, I’ll just have to teach you.”

He reached out a hand and pulled Will up from the table. “If we’re going to do this, you might as well call me Kit. Have you ever had a man put his mouth on your cock?”

Will was quite sure that he would soon have all the experience with life that he could want. Though he wasn’t sure that the London stage would be able to handle any of it, so it might not be of use for his plays. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Marlowe, after all, did taste a bit like freedom and a bit like sin.


End file.
